


A Fox Among Wolves

by angelcakes19, iwanita



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcakes19/pseuds/angelcakes19, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanita/pseuds/iwanita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past comes back to haunt Knock Out when his new crewmates find out about his partner’s origins. Things get out of control and, after an almost fatal incident, Knock Out and his crewmates will need to make amends. Will they be able to rebuild the destroyed trust? This is a quest for understanding and forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fox Among Wolves

Author's Notes:

angelcakes19- Hi all again, long time no see. Sorry about that, real life has been extremely busy and demanding. Hope to come back with other stuff soon too but right now here is something iwanita and I have been working on for several years. Our 'little AU' where Knock Out becomes the DJD's medic and drama ensues. I hope you guys love it as much as we do. Please bear in mind this was written based off a roleplay so may seem a bit strange in places. Also, though touched up, this chapter is a few years old. Any mistakes are on me as I beta'd it. Please be respectful in the comments. Neither of us own Transformers or any of its characters.

We both hope you'll all enjoy it.

***

A Fox Among Wolves

Prologue- A Fox meets a Wild Dog

The cruel sound of laser fire and distant explosions surrounded the sleek red mech as he darted through the battlefield, dodging debris as it rained over him. Trying to avoid the enemy, he attempted to approach his target. Not that he didn’t know how to defend himself in a fight but, currently, it wasn’t his priority. Knock Out was a medic, and his role in a battlefield like this was to attend his fallen comrades and minimize casualties. Let the bigger mechs fight. 

Breakdown barrelled across the field, cutting down his enemies with ease and strength without breaking stride. He’d been given a specific target for this battle unlike Knock Out’s constantly shifting ones, the identity of a mech to take hostage after he'd reported the Decepticon medic's persistent contact with the Con’s High Command. There was a good chance the red mech would know something useful and, once he gave up the contents of his processor, he could be neutralised. A beneficial plan all round. Noting a streak of characteristic crimson several yards from him, he ignored the weapon fire grazing his armour and headed for the medic.

A stray missile impacted nearby and Knock Out skidded to a halt, transforming to mech mode and taking cover behind a boulder, pausing for a second to scan the terrain and plan a better route. He was so engrossed in his task that he almost missed the huge shadow falling upon him. “Scrap!” The CMO muttered, rolling out of the way just in time. The owner of the shadow, an equally huge mech, landed where he had been standing just a nanosecond ago, pavement cracking beneath the monster of a mech.

Breakdown smirked at the smaller mech, advancing quickly on him, tone teasing, mocking, “Awww, don't you want to play?”

“Sorry big boy, I don’t have time to play with you today,” Knock Out returned a cocky grin, using his smaller size and agility to dart out of the way of the bigger mech when he lunged for him. “Maybe on another occasion.”

Breakdown's optics swirled gleefully, following Knock Out move for move, “Oh come on.” He drew out the last word, arm shooting out and missing catching the medic by inches, _just barely_ scratching Knock Out's paint.

The vain mech’s denta clenched tightly as he felt the nick to his shoulder-plate. He stopped and whirled around, momentarily surprising the other mech with his sudden change in plans. “Oh you are so going to regret that...” he seethed, pulling from subspace his electric rod, blood red optics flashing dangerously, full of challenge.

Breakdown quickly recovered and grinned, golden optics blazing in kind, and beckoned Knock Out on in a _come on then_ gesture. “If you think you can handle me little mech.”

“I’ve taken down bigger mechs than you.” The red medic laughed humourlessly and switched on his lightning rod, making it swirl in the air in an arc of beautiful, shimmering white before attacking his enemy with a horizontal thrust.

“Oh, I bet you have,” Breakdown leered then dodged out of the way, optics following the movement of the rod. “Pretty toy you got there.”

Knock Out’s anger flared. It was not the first time a mech had looked at him the wrong way. It was the price to pay when one had his good looks. And even he had to admit that they came in handy when it came to distracting an enemy. “You wanted to play? I bring toys for you!” He crouched out of the way and spun around the rod, striking Breakdown in a knee-joint.

Breakdown grunted, but the grin didn't drop from his faceplates. _Finally_ one who'll put up a fight! Knock Out had fire, he'd give him that. Laughing, he tried to land a blow on the medic's agile frame.

The good thing about combat weapons versus guns was that they didn’t run out of ammo. The bad thing was that they required being in close range with the enemy. Sometimes, too close. Knock Out’s speed saved him from receiving the vertical blow of the Autobot, but he stumbled as it landed on the ground next to him and shattered the concrete.

The red medic winced as the air was knocked out of his vents, processors whitening briefly and gyros struggling to re-calibrate. That was going to hurt later. He felt, more than heard, something metallic falling near him and the medic discovered, to his horror, that he had dropped his lightning rod. Cursing loudly, Knock Out scrambled to his feet, fighting to regain his balance and make a dash for his weapon.

Breakdown dove forward, catching the smaller mech and holding him tightly in one servo, reaching down and snatching up the rod a second later.

Knock Out thrashed and kicked, trying to break free of the bigger mech’s hold. “You tasteless brute! Release me!”

“Sorry little mech, no can do,” Breakdown chuckled, grunting at the kicks to his lower body and hits to his chassis, beginning to cross the battlefield again.

Knock Out snarled in frustration, glaring at the other mech. This was humiliating! On a closer inspection, he discovered a thin wound from laser-fire that had caught the Autobot near his midsection and aimed a kick for it.

Breakdown hissed, grin slipping from his face as his grip loosened on the medic, “That was foolish...” he snarled.

“Yeah? What about this?” Knock Out took advantage of the brief slackening of Breakdown’s grip around him to break free and aim a punch to his enemy’s faceplates.

Stumbling backwards, Breakdown dabbed his bleeding lip component with his fist, a feral grin lighting up his faceplates, optics burning like fire. He _really_ liked this one. “Aww was that supposed to hurt? I thought you were going to make me regret this?”

Inwardly snarling in frustration, Knock Out cursed his disadvantage in size and weight. He couldn’t inflict real damage on a mech of that build and armour. His optics drifted to his lightning rod, still in Breakdown’s grip…

Breakdown followed Knock Out's gaze, chuckling softly at the medic's rod in his servo, and began to twirl it mockingly. “You want it? Come and get it.”

Breakdown had not finished his sentence when Knock Out began dashing at him, aiming determinedly for his rod. The Autobot pulled it out of the way at the last moment and the red medic skidded, crouching to avoid a blow. Regaining his footing, he jumped to land a flying kick into the wound he had previously discovered in the bruiser’s stomach, aiming to further exacerbate the injury.

Forced back a couple of steps, Breakdown smirked maliciously, not like how Knock Out would imagine an Autobot at all. “That's it little mech, you’ve had your chance to do this nicely.” He slammed a punch into Knock Out's chassis, just holding back some strength so as to not accidentally punch the medic's spark out.

Knock Out’s vision faded into static as he fell to the ground, damage reports flooding his HUD and pain receptors screaming in agony. He felt as if Astrotrain had just run over him. Three times. When he recovered his video input everything was still blurry, but the sports car could make out the huge form of the bruiser crouching down over him. “Slag...” he muttered; trying to rise from the ground and wincing as the tension sent pain shooting across his frame once more.

Breakdown pressed a servo into Knock Out's middle. “Stay down; I don't want to break ya, not now.” Later it would be to the victor the spoils- he would get to terminate the Con he'd captured; it was his earned right- but now... “Gonna behave for me?”

“Get... fragged...” Knock Out muttered, a defiant sneer tugging at the corners of his mouth. The fight might be over, but he wasn’t going to give up. Not now, not ever.

Breakdown's frame rumbled with silent laughter, leaning forwards he whispered into Knock Out's audio, “Maybe later... if you're good.” As he rose, the blue mech punched the smaller in the side of the helm, just hard enough to knock his opponent unconscious. Slinging the limp form over his shoulder, the winner of the bout strode to his ship, energon prod dangling loosely from his spare servo.

***

The first thing Knock Out was aware of when his processors sluggishly rebooted and onlined was the pain. Oh, everything _hurt._ Why did everything hurt so much? The last thing he remembered was running across the battlefield and... “Slag...” he murmured as his last memories finished opening. That brute had captured him. The medic tried to straighten up only to hopelessly realize that his arms were tied tightly behind his back. “...You have to be kidding me...” And why the frag was his video input not working?

“Would you keep still?” Breakdown murmured, beginning to apply some field repairs to the medic, “If I don't repair some of this damage you're going to offline on my berth.”

“Hah! So that you can slag me later? Not likely!” The red mech growled, kicking blindly and squirming. There was only one reason the enemy wanted him alive: to extract information out of him. They surely meant to scrap him later when he was no longer useful. Knock Out knew because it was nothing innovative to him. The Decepticons did the same.

Breakdown grabbed hold of both Knock Out's legs, binding them quickly to immobilise the medic. “We're decacycles away from base, you want to be in pain all that time little mech?”

Knock Out growled but stilled. Not because he had given up, but because he needed time to think. The Autobot had said they had weeks before they reached their destination, probably the place where he would be tortured for information and killed. He may as well receive some rudimentary repairs to make his possibility for escape more plausible. The crimson mech couldn’t move or see, but he could focus and think if he didn’t panic. “I can’t see. You should probably repair my optics if you want to be helpful.”

Breakdown purred out a laugh, “Sorry little mech, but you're staying blindfolded, can't have you seeing something you shouldn't...” His digits worked their way into gaps in Knock Out's armour, fixing damaged wiring as he spoke despite the size and clumsiness of them. For a moment, the CMO thought he might hold some potential with the right training… “And I will fill your mouth as well if you backtalk me.” But, with that statement, that musing soon passed. 

Great. Just great. Knock Out winced as the repairs sent fresh pain coursing through his sensornet, but forced himself to remain still. His HUD was informing him of the list of damages that were currently being repaired. The Autobot was certainly not lying about that. Then an idea occurred to him; maybe he could talk his captor into giving away some useful hints or clues? “What’s your designation?” It was worth a try, for his freedom…

Breakdown chuckled lowly, optics flicking over Knock Out's frame in search of injury, and couldn't help but notice how gorgeous the little Con was. Reaching out a servo, he ran it down his catch's side, ostensibly looking for further damage. “And why would you like to know that?”

Knock Out tried his best to ignore the questing digits probing as his damaged frame. “Well, considering that I’m tied up and blindfolded, _chatting_ is the only thing keeping me from falling into recharge out of sheer boredom. I just thought that calling you ‘Autobot’ sounded very lame.”

“Breakdown,” there was amusement in the Wrecker's tone, “My designation is Breakdown, and yours is Knock Out. Still going to call you little mech though.”

The Decepticon growled inwardly and fought very hard the urge to protest at the nickname. Instead, he chose to continue digging for useful information. “And why is it that you know so much about me?”

“You're an interesting mech,” Breakdown rumbled, sealing a leak on Knock Out's arm. “Always near the higher-ups, never too far away from power. You can't tell me you don't know some juicy titbits about your superiors…”

“If you know so much about me, you would know that I’m a medic. That’s why I’m usually near the higher-ups. If you want to interrogate me, I’m afraid I know nothing of interest.” Knock Out tried to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, as if he found it all quite absurd. 

“You know mech's weak spots,” Breakdown's tone darkened, not letting it go, “where to hit to cause the most damage. To us Wreckers, that's valuable, that's of interest.”

“Wreckers...” Knock Out’s smirk faltered as the wildest hope of escaping alive from his predicament suddenly evaporated. He knew very well what was said about the Wreckers. They were almost like some of the worst Decepticons, but sided with the Autobots. They shared their purpose, but lacked their supposed morals. Shooting defenceless mechs, torture, suicidal missions... “I know nothing!” Knock Out yelled, casual tone vanishing, and squirmed, panic starting to seep into his core. He didn’t want to die. Not like that.

Breakdown pulled the squirming mech into his lap, immobilising him completely without much effort, “Stop! You’re damaging yourself further! Not gonna hurt ya now.” Little mech seemed to be having some kind of panic attack, not that Breakdown could blame him, they both knew exactly what was going to happen later... Still he was not completely sparkless and comfort was not entirely beyond him. “Shhh, just need you to tell us where some of the officers need repairing most often, that's all. I know you're only a medic, I know, it's why I'm gonna make it quick for ya when the time comes...” One shot, one kill as many Wreckers said, “Shhh now.”

He rubbed up and down Knock Out's back soothingly, servo occasionally caressing the sports car’s wheel mounted there.

Knock Out’s frame trembled as fear seized him. Yet, he didn’t want to be remembered as a coward, even by the enemy, so he forced himself after several minutes to calm down; annoyed that the other’s attentions actually seemed to be helping... “Stop touching me,” he tried to growl, but it came out as a whimper.

Breakdown wordlessly gently laid the medic back on the berth, mindful of Knock Out's injuries, and resumed repairing him.

Knock Out couldn’t believe it. Of course they were at war. Of course people died every day. But those kind of things... happened to other mechs. Not to him. He wasn’t prepared to die yet. Not when there were so many things he still wanted to do. Damn it all to the Pit and back! At least he deserved to die fighting, in a blaze of glory, not tied up and helpless. “Buff me later, will you? I don’t want to go offline all scratched and ugly,” the vain mech muttered drily, remembering what had prompted him to fight in the first place instead of running as he should have done. 

His pride and finish be damned.

“Pretty little mech,” Breakdown gave a small grin, knowing that Knock Out couldn't see it, though it dropped into a frown at the note of... _despondency?_ in the medic's voice. “Hey, you got a while yet, and some good company if I do say so myself.” The Wrecker was secretly glad Knock Out couldn't see him, he was sure the Decepticon would arouse that Pit-damned old glitch of his. It was always the same when he had someone who interested him to himself...

Knock Out gave a tired, humourless chuckle. “I guess I should be grateful for the companionship at least?” Sarcasm coated his words, but he still wasn’t sure if he would actually prefer to spend his final moments in solitude or if his biting tone was just an expression of resentment to the mech who would be responsible for his deactivation. At least the other mech’s conversation kept him from panicking, the sadistic mech supposed.

Breakdown smirked and, with a hint of playfulness in his voice, murmured, “Aww come on, I'm not that bad. You can say almost whatever you want, I'm not that easy to offend and impossible to disgust.” He'd had one Con describe to him once, in intimate detail, how the sewage-green mech had dissected an Autobot prisoner alive. Breakdown had just listened, allowing his captive to distract himself from the inevitable.

“I guess it could be worse,” The red medic sighed, with a sad smirk. “I could be stuck with Starscream.”

Breakdown laughed, tank-deep and genuine, “That slagging irritating glitch. Whiny voice, cowardly... I think you have managed to disgust me after all.”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me,” Knock Out’s pride held to the smallest of victories.

Breakdown scoffed but then his voice took on a slightly serious tone, “You're so much better than him. At least you fought; he’d have ran away screeching.”

“I guess I’m not just a pretty face, huh?” Knock Out let his helm fall back onto the berth with a muffled thud, dark thoughts seeping into his processors. In the end, he was just a fraggable chassis for everyone, as much as he fought to prove them wrong.

“Got no respect for cowards,” Breakdown murmured, “And you took me on so you can't be one can ya?” His servo raised, hesitated above the medic's back then withdrew.

“I guess not,” the medic muttered, trying to believe the words. That he was not a weakling; that he was worth something. “Primus... there were so many things I still wanted to do...” he murmured, more to himself than to the other mech.

Breakdown blinked. Should he pretend not to have heard Knock Out? He wasn't sure truly what he could say... Why did this little Con have to be so different to his animalistic brethren? “You... wanna tell me how you want your paintjob done?” Who was the bruiser to deny a mech's last request? His helm fell on one shoulder as he remembered the medic's reaction to that _tiny_ little scratch on his shoulder. “Why is it so important to you anyway?”

Knock Out was sure the Autobot didn’t care in the least about his paintjob or his past... but he was going to die so who gave a frag? “I wasn’t always just a medic,” he confessed with a nostalgic invent. “Before the war I used to run in the circuits... but to enlist in each race was expensive, and when you came from the streets like me, the best way to afford it was to get a sponsor. They wouldn’t pay for just any mech though...” He was silent for some seconds, thoughtful. “Looking good on the outside helped a little.”

“Pretty and smart,” Breakdown smiled genuinely, “why couldn't you have been an Autobot?”

“‘Cause pretty boys are always bad,” Knock Out grinned to himself.

 _And the best in the berth,_ the Wrecker lamented. “So... a Seeker murmured in my audio that you like cutting things”- _mechs_ \- “up...”

“When you can’t afford a medic after the races you learn to do the repairs for yourself.” Academy training helped of course. There were very few rules in the circuits the racer used to run. “It’s a great way to learn what hurts most. I just put my knowledge into practice to make my enemies fall fast and hard... I guess we are not so different after all.”

“Guess not.” Breakdown stared at the bound medic with a silent sigh. “Listen... if you promise to behave I'll take your blindfold off.”

“...Okay,” Knock Out nodded. A small victory was a still a victory, and perhaps if he could see he wouldn’t feel so utterly helpless.

Breakdown slid his digits into the clasp and clicked it off, “Sight ok?”

Knock Out had to reset his optics a couple of times before they adjusted to the light. His maroon irises darted around the room before finally focusing on his captor and flinching instinctively. Up close he seemed even bigger. “...T-thanks... I suppose,” he muttered before looking away with a grim expression.

Breakdown noticed the recoil. “I'm not cruel off the battlefield and beating a bound mech isn't the way I roll. You needn't fear me.”

“Then you don’t exactly match the whole definition of Wrecker,” Knock Out replied disbelievingly, cautiously glancing back at him.

“All Wreckers are individuals,” Breakdown answered simply, “We're all a bit glitched in our own ways. Me, I like an opponent who can fight back. Others don't give a slag either way. It's why we work better as lone wolves; we clash if we're together too long, too big personality programmes...”

‘And frames,’ Knock Out thought. “So, how would you spend your last joors among the living, Breakdown? My ideas won’t get me anywhere,” the captive asked, a little downhearted.

Breakdown moved forward slowly so as not to startle the medic and lifted him gently, lowering him back down on the pillows at the head of his berth. “I'd get myself comfortable first.”

Knock Out suppressed a shiver at the proximity of the huge mech, the same one that not too many breems ago had punched him into scrap. But the CMO had to admit that the change in position was good for him. His joints had begun to feel sore after so long in the same awkward position, and being moved and placed on an even softer surface helped the aching some. Still, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He was in company of the enemy. “And after getting comfortable?”

“Hmmm,” Breakdown leaned back, “Do you know I've never really thought about it? Wreckers tend to go out with a _bang_ you know? No time to relax…”

“Hm. I guess it is the most common way to go out in a war. But I wanted my death to be important. Doing something heroic, I suppose.” Knock Out leaned his helm back and shuttered his optics, heaving a slow sigh.

Breakdown felt a flicker of guilt, honour rebelling at denying a soldier a warrior's deactivation. And what was worse was he _knew_ the Prime wouldn't approve of Knock Out being terminated. Medics were often seen as the 'good side' to the Decepticons, to be cared for if captured as Autobot High Command believed that this element of the Cons at least were saveable as to be a medic it was assumed one had to be essentially good-natured; despite the widely known cruel nature of Decepticon medics with their general lack of belief in painkillers for the wounded. It was why Wreckers operated so much under the radar as they did the things their so called comrades would balk at, forcing them into isolation as they did what was necessary. “It will only hurt for a moment,” he mumbled, “and the others shouldn't hurt ya.”

As close as he was going to get to an apology for the moment.

“Stop that.” Knock Out’s optics opened again to glare daggers at the Wrecker. “I don’t need your compassion. Besides, it’s my fault for biting off more than I could chew. Serves me right,” he scoffed at himself.

Breakdown smiled, a twitch of the lip components, glad that the fire in the medic had returned to the fore. “To be fair, I did accidentally cross a line you have.”

“Should have kicked you harder for that,” the red medic smirked.

Breakdown's optics gleamed, “We could have a spar when we reach the base, give you a chance to do so.”

Knock Out knew he still wouldn't stand a chance, much less in his current state of repairs. He was patched up, yes, but by no means in his best condition. “I’d love to,” he agreed with a _why not?_ shrug. At least, he wouldn’t feel so helpless and useless if he had the illusion that he could fight back. “You are nice, I suppose, to be an Autobot,” he conceded then paused to think for a second, “and exceptionally nice to be a Wrecker.”

Breakdown's faceplates morphed, darkening, almost cruel, “Not always little mech, not always.” A few moments later his expression relaxed again, as if remembering who he was speaking to and that he had been trying to be comforting. “Not… allowed to be a full Autobot you know? No Wrecker is, not really.”

“Some say you are like Decepticons, but playing for the other team,” Knock Out stared at him to see his reaction.

Breakdown sat back, a thoughtful expression on his faceplates. “Perhaps... they are right.” He didn't know what the others believed but his link to the Cause was tentative, another reason to keep himself solitary. Accusations of treason would effectively finish off any connection he had left. “But if we weren't the Autobots would be wiped out, they're far too soft to get things done.”

“You are right about that. Drastic measures are needed in order to finally finish the war one day,” Knock Out sighed, and they fell into silence for several minutes, each mech lost in his own musings. “You have beautiful optics, by the way. I’ve never seen that colour in a ‘Bot before,” he complimented suddenly, perhaps wanting to change the subject. After all, the Autobots killing the Decepticon’s Commanding Medical Officer could be seen as a necessary ‘drastic measure’ to eventually win the war…

Breakdown's optic ridges shot up, “My creators had peculiar tastes, but I like them. Autobot blue is a bit too passive for me so I didn't see the point in changing them...” _Beautiful?_ The little mech thought a part of him was _beautiful?_ A helpless grin grew on his faceplates.

“Not that flattery will get me anywhere... but I’m not above appreciating something nice, regardless of its owner.” Knock Out inclined his helm, all honesty. He was an expert in beauty matters.

Breakdown leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Knock Out's lip components. “It is appreciated, pretty mech.”

Knock Out’s frame tensed when the other mech approached, and his systems stalled when all he did was press a brief kiss next to his mouth. When he regained the ability to speak, he glared at the Wrecker and hissed venomously, “Do that again, and I promise you will be regretting accepting a spar with me.”

Breakdown laughed loud before dipping down and repeating the action, this time adding a hint of glossa. “I'm counting on it pretty little mech.”

Knock Out took advantage of how close Breakdown had to lean in order to kiss him to hit the Wrecker in his midsection with his tied knees. “Not... little,” he growled, getting two strikes in.

Breakdown smiled from his new position on the floor having been caught off balance, “How about fiery?” he rose up slowly, leaning tentatively in again, “Gorgeous?”

“That’s better,” he growled, and when Breakdown leaned in to kiss him again he didn’t turn his face. Instead, he returned the kiss angrily, biting at the bruiser’s lower lip components with enough force to draw energon.

Breakdown growled and repaid the damage in kind, strong arm wrapping around Knock Out's frame to draw him closer, frame coming half over the berth.

Knock Out tried to squirm and resist, his processors screaming that this was nine levels of wrong but his systems heating up despite it, maybe as a way to escape the reality of his imminent demise.

Breakdown broke away slightly, though his grip didn't loosen, “Do you want me to stop?”

Somehow, Knock Out knew that if he told Breakdown to stop, he would without question or complaint. Regardless, the red mech glared at his captor, maroon irises brightening with inner fire. “...No... But I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Breakdown grinned wickedly, golden optics sparkling as he relished how challenging the little medic was, “Ooh I hope you won't...” His servo ran up and down Knock Out's side, “... Heating up so nicely for me. Now... how to really get your engines revving...”

Knock Out tested the strength of his bonds. “Freeing me would be a good start,” he growled in frustration at the bruiser, although he knew that was not going to happen.

“Hmm nope, I can reach your sweet spots just fine like this,” Breakdown nipped Knock Out's lower lip component, sliding a digit between the panelling on the bound mech's back to lightly scratch a sensor bundle hidden there.

Knock Out gasped and arched his back, servos clutching at empty air.

Breakdown's free servo grabbed Knock Out's smaller ones, giving them something to grip at, continuing to tease wires and sensors, encouraging the medic’s plating to heat up, his interfacing programming to come online. “Come on gorgeous...”

Knock Out’s cooling fans came to life as the Wrecker continued to almost knowingly stroke and tease the wires and sensors between the gaps of his armour. “You... ahh... you’re gonna regret this, Wrecker!”

“Oh I don't think so,” Breakdown purred in satisfaction, “I think this is going to be so very good.” His servo crept down towards Knock Out's interfacing panel…

“Get your... filthy servos off me...!” He tried to snarl but a needy whine crept into his voice, his frame warming even more under Breakdown’s expert touches.

“Filthy? Maybe, but you seem to like it,” the Wrecker's engines revved teasingly, “And those little noises you're making are charging me up.”

“So, you get... turned on by Decepticons, huh?” Knock Out tried to taunt the other mech, fighting the pleasure that was coursing through his sensornet, his systems pleading for more.

Breakdown's servo cupped the medic's heated panel, massaging it firmly. “Only if they're pretty _little_ medics,” he growled roughly.

Knock Out’s interface cover retracted of its own accord at Breakdown’s deep, husky growl, a thin trail of lubricant starting to drip…

Breakdown snarled in triumph, “Knew you were liking it, look how _wet_ you are...”

“As if... you weren’t enjoying yourself too...” Knock Out breathed lowly, fighting the urge to beg. No, he wouldn’t lower himself to that, as much as his body was screaming for a good frag to make him forget their destination.

“I'm not the one trying to deny it,” Breakdown whispered huskily into his audio, sliding a large digit into Knock Out's valve as his field pulsed smugly, “Going to make you scream for me.”

The cherry red frame shuddered at the invasion of his valve, as well as the deep purring whisper next to his audio. “We’ll see if you can,” he sighed, offlining his optics and tilting his helm back, the sensations coming from his valve starting to cloud his rational thoughts.

The Wrecker admired the sight as he slipped a second digit in, “You really are exquisite,” he crooned in the Decepticon's audio, beginning a scissor movement.

Knock Out’s lips parted in a silent moan. He wanted to snap at the Autobot, but he couldn’t form any intelligent retort. Those big digits didn’t fail to miss any sensor.

“Do you like being told how beautiful you are?” Breakdown finally settled himself completely on the berth, nibbling on Knock Out's chassis as he inserted a third finger, making sure to graze internal pleasure nodes as he did so.

“Yes...” he breathed, confession open and honest, moving his hips as much as he could, trying to take in those thick digits. “I…I love it.”

Breakdown licked and suckled his way down Knock Out's frame, optics locked on the medic's faceplates. “You have such an elegant little frame, bet you're one of the fastest mechs on Cybertron.” A fourth digit began to stroke at the sports car's valve walls.

Knock Out hissed at been stretched so much, but he endured it, even relished it. “You have... ahhh... no idea...”

“I bet this frame normally gleams,” Breakdown withdrew his digits, slowly lining up his spike with the clenching entrance.

“There’s... no one shinier... than… _me_ ,” he moaned, his helm falling back as the CMO momentarily missed the digits in his valve.

Breakdown gripped Knock Out's hips, lifting him carefully into his lap so he could prepare to place the bound mech on his length, “Going to fill you up shiny mech.”

“Stop... talking and do something!” the medic snarled impatiently, optics flashing a fiery red.

Breakdown smirked and hilted himself in one thrust, his thigh plates slamming into Knock Out's hips hard enough to leave dents.

The scream that left the red mech was so loud it left Breakdown’s audios ringing for several seconds. Knock Out arched his back so he could rest his weight into the blue mech’s chassis, his own strength faltering as his frame attempted to adjust to the invasion.

Easing Knock Out down onto the berth, so the smaller mech could rest his helm on the pillow, one massive arm wrapped around the medic's waist to keep their angle. Breakdown began slow deep thrusts, littering kisses and sharp bites on Knock Out's lower back, licking at the metal when his denta began to draw energon.

If until now it had been difficult to think, now it was literally impossible. All Knock Out could feel was the impossibly thick spike thrusting into him, leaving no sensor cluster untouched in its path, tripping over every sensor node in its path and driving him insane. His optics shuttered closed, his processors too overwhelmed with pleasure to handle yet another sensory input.

Breakdown blanketed the other mech's frame, moaning at the slick tightness clutching at him. Driving Knock Out into the sheets, his pace gradually began to get harder, ramming into the sensor bundle at the back of Knock Out's valve without fail every time.

Knock Out could only moan and scream in pleasure as the other mech pounded into him, just on that perfect line between pleasure and pain. No one had ever make him feel this way, filled him so much and made him truly scream. Why did this wonderful sensation of rightness have to be the prelude to his final moments? Why couldn’t he have found it before, found it sooner?

With each thrust, pleasure soared up Breakdown’s spinal-strut, but his spark began to ache. He didn't want to give Knock Out up... Pushing it aside as best he could for the moment, he set to burning the medic from the inside out with pleasure, to temporarily shield them both from the cold truth.

The CMO’s sensornet was alive, charge building incessantly, forcefully pushing aside any sense of good or wrong, Autobot or Decepticon for the time being. At that moment, it was just Breakdown fragging him senseless. The war could shove itself up its exhaust pipe.

At least, for these few precious moments…

Breakdown, in the face of Knock Out's pleasure, couldn't remember a time when he'd been this close to someone... anyone. Lubricant gushed down their legs, staining the plating and pooling beneath them on the berth. His thrusts began to quicken, spike ridges both tormenting and being tortured by Knock Out's sensor nodes.

“Aahh...ahh...” Knock Out gave a keen moan as he felt his valve clutch at the spike, his overload imminent.

“That's it pretty,” Breakdown groaned, “Let me feel it.”

Knock Out howled as his climax washed through him with overwhelming waves of pleasure, leaving his frame in a spasm and trembling. He relied on Breakdown’s arm to hold him, because his strength had been drained from his body with the last traces of his resistance, and he could only trust the bruiser not to let him fall. 

Breakdown followed three thrusts later, making sure when his frame collapsed from his overload that he landed beside the medic, not on top of him. Pulling Knock Out close, still buried deep inside, he buried his faceplates in the swanlike neck venting hard.

Knock Out’s cooling fans worked double time to return his temperature to acceptable levels. He didn’t fight the closeness as the Autobot pulled him against the blue frame, too exhausted to fight it or even think about it really, submitting, at least for the moment, to the other mech.

Breakdown tried to savour the moment but, as soon as sensation returned to his legs, he was up and moving, pacing the room agitatedly.

Knock Out returned abruptly to reality and blinked blearily, looking at the other mech with apprehension. Had he decided to finish him before arriving to his base?

"What... happened...?" he asked, unsettled.

“I... I... Frag.” Breakdown, came back to Knock Out, pulling him into his lap to cradle the smaller frame to him. “Don't want to,” he buried his faceplates again in the CMO's metal and inhaled his scent deeply.

Knock Out shuttered his optics in rejection. “I don’t care if you wanted to use my frame, but I won’t allow you to play with my feelings.” Especially not now…

Breakdown shook his helm strongly, “No, I don't want to hurt you... but the others know I have you...” To keep Knock Out, or even to simply spare him, he'd have to give the Wreckers up and through them the Autobots. It would be an act of treason that the others would never excuse.

“You’d be labelled a traitor... They’ll hunt you down,” Knock Out whispered, wondering what on Cybertron the Wrecker was thinking.

Breakdown vented deeply, “What’s the going price in information for defection these orns?”

Knock Out pulled back as much as he could to stare at Breakdown directly into his golden optics, searching them for signs of lies. But after an extended search, the crimson mech had to admit to himself he couldn’t find any. “You are serious, aren’t you?” he asked softly in incredulity.

“I've been fragging lonely little mech,” Breakdown murmured his own confession, “Not a single mech in the galaxy that gives a slag about me.”

“I thought you liked being a lone wolf,” Knock Out’s optic brow rose at the bruiser.

“I'll tell you a secret little mech,” Breakdown whispered into his audio, “I have a little glitch that kicks up every now and again... I _hate_ being looked at when it comes to the fore and of course believe that everyone is looking at me when it does. That's why I work alone, makes things easier. But I've been going mad by myself... only so long a mech can cope alone in a metal box.” There was another reason, but he wasn’t ready to disclose that one yet.

Knock Out frowned slightly, “And what do you feel when _I_ look at you?”

Breakdown gave a small smile, “Desirable, interesting, _beautiful_... I thought you'd end up setting it off but I just feel... calm around you.” It was true. His glitch was always on the edges of his processor, waiting for a chance to strike even at its calmest, but with Knock Out there Breakdown could almost forget he had a problem at all. 

Knock Out narrowed his optics, “And what exactly makes you think I’d be fine with that? You believe one frag is enough to make me fall helm over pedes for you?” The most logical course of action would have been accepting whatever Breakdown wanted just for his life’s sake, to escape from certain death; but Knock Out had had enough of mechs promising him the Luna Base Two and then turning around when they no longer had interest in him.

“Surely medics need assistants, a bit of muscle to keep them safe on the field?” Breakdown asked quietly, “I'm not asking for Cybertron Knock Out.”

Knock Out looked at Breakdown for the longest moment, his gaze inscrutable. “Untie me,” he stated after the extended silence, his voice neutral.

Breakdown nodded slowly, his digits obediently dug into the clasps and flicked them off onto the floor with a clink.

Knock Out massaged his wrists for a second before returning his attention to the other mech. Now, they were both in equal conditions to defend themselves or attack, and the closeness made any movement dangerous if misunderstood. Another long silence followed, until the red medic spoke. “Hold me?” he requested simply.

Breakdown nodded, but first he gently took each wrist and pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to them. “Like this?” he asked, cradling Knock Out to his chassis on his lap, arms protectively wrapped around the smaller frame.

“Yes...” Knock Out sighed as he allowed himself to get comfortable in the bigger mech’s embrace, feeling oddly protected and warm within those strong arms. “Are you... going to leave me too when you get bored of my pretty face and shiny finish?” he asked softly, his voice breaking near the end.

“Was never your finish little mech, beautiful though it is. It is your fire that intrigues me...” Breakdown trailed off for a moment, optics darkening, “Mechs who had you gave you up? Fragging idiots with glitched processors...”

“You’ll stay with me?” Knock Out looked up to meet the enigmatic golden optics.

“Keep you, let you keep me, if you'll give me a shot,” Breakdown's eyes flickered nervously in return.

“Ah yes, I remember...” Knock Out straightened on his knee-joints to reach Breakdown’s face, cupping his cheeks between his servos. “Wreckers tend to go out with a _bang_ ,” he smiled, and pulled the other mech into a kiss.

Breakdown's arms enclosed around his back, engines purring happily, as he returned the kiss passionately with lips and glossa.

Knock Out pulled back for a second. “I’d suggest you to turn this transport around before we reach Autobot ground, otherwise we will both be in trouble.”

Scooping the smaller mech up, Breakdown looked at him slightly sheepishly, “When we get back to Decepticon territory I'm relying on you to convince them not to blow us out of the sky.”

“Consider it done,” the red medic winked an optic. “Besides, you are lucky to have me. A lone Autobot saying that he wants to join the Decepticon army is suspicious. But coming back with a lost medic who can plead your case for you makes it all much easier.”

“Ahh but I have more than that little mech,” The Wrecker placed Knock Out in the passenger side of his craft to redirect the autopilot. “There are so many little secrets I know, about the Wreckers, the Autobot officers, settlements...”

“I see you were not very attached to them.” Knock Out smirked, pulling his lover into a kiss as his engines purring in content.

Servos lifting Knock Out's aft, Breakdown pulled the smaller mech into his lap as he sat down, “None of them ever gave a slag about me,” he hissed into the medic's lip components.

“I’ll take care of you.” Knock Out replied, placing bites in his new lover’s lips. “And you’ll watch my back in return.”

“Amongst other things,” a smirk grew on Breakdown's lip components. Raising Knock Out up slightly, he pushed him into the ship's console, kissing him deeply and rubbing their interfacing panels together. “Want me little mech?”

“Yes...” Knock Out hissed. “Besides, last time I was at a great disadvantage being all tied up.” His engines gave a soft, inciting purr, “I could only scream and moan helplessly in your grasp...” The medic trailed deft, agile expert digits along Breakdown’s flanks. “Wasn’t fair...”

“Suppose it wasn't,” Breakdown smirked, “Could always pin you down now though too,” he teased into the medic's lip components, moaning softly at Knock Out's exploring touches.

“So that’s what you think, huh?” Maroon optics flashed deviously as the sports car teased the wiring beneath the transformation seams along Breakdown’s abdominal plating.

Breakdown's own orbs flickered playfully in return. “Yeah,” he kissed Knock Out lustfully, engines rumbling in contented arousal.

Knock Out grinned into the kiss and, taking advantage of his position in Breakdown’s lap, kicked the control console behind him, throwing the chair off-balance. The larger mech crashed to the floor with a startled yelp, and Knock Out landed gracefully on him, straddling his hips. “Oops, my bad.” he leered, optics shining with mischief.

Breakdown blinked then chuckled lowly, responding by pressing his knee into Knock Out's interfacing panel and beginning to massage it firmly. Two could play this game.

The crimson mech gave a soft purr and dove to leave a trail of nips and bites along Breakdown’s chest-plates, up to his neck cabling...

The bruiser's engines revved, baring more of his throat to Knock Out's denta, “‘S good pretty mech.”

Knock Out bit with more force than necessary at one neck cable to try to draw energon, at the same time that his nimble digits played with the tension cabling in the blue mech’s groin. “Not good,” he breathed.

“No... wicked beautiful mech,” Breakdown arched into Knock Out's clever fingers, gasping quietly and pressing the softer metal of his neck into the medic's mouth in a silent request for more.

Knock Out descended from the neck towards Breakdown’s chest and abdominal plating, taking his time to explore the other mech’s frame and learn from the reactions every touch triggered. Slowly, his searching digits ended upon the Autobot’s spike cover, and rubbed teasing circles on the heated metal. “Whose mech is this...?” he teased, stopping his attentions.

Breakdown moaned, squirming on the floor, but his optics glimmered with amusement. “Hmm... no one's, haven't been claimed yet...”

“Oh, no one’s going to lay a finger in what is mine from now on,” the Decepticon chuckled lightly as his expert digits triggered the manual medical override of the interface cover, making it retract and fully expose Breakdown’s fine spike.

The bruiser moaned in answer, engines roaring for a moment, as his length slid out and pressurised once more. _Clever little mech._ “Yours?” he panted.

“ _Mine_ ,” Knock Out growled, sliding a servo down Breakdown’s spike. He was tired of being the pretty little mech others used and discarded; the medic wanted something that could last longer, possibly forever. And something in his spark told him that Breakdown could be that mech.

Breakdown's helm dropped to the floor with a clunk, staring up at Knock Out through yellow slits, arching up into the medic's touch. “Possessive are we?” he whispered huskily.

Knock Out pounced on his new partner’s spike, running his glossa from base to top, as slowly as he dared, as he could; wanting to tease them both but not to torment himself too much.

Breakdown grunted loudly, biting through his lower lip component to stop a scream of lustful frustration escaping. His digits scratched at the ground as optics deepened to a dangerous amber. “W-warning you little mech...”

Knock Out took just the tip of Breakdown’s spike into his mouth, sucking gently, eliciting a shiver from the bigger mech and a half-whimper that was quickly stifled and disguised as a growl. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your _mewling_ ,” the medic mocked, placing small bites along the length.

Breakdown's frame vibrated, engines beginning to rumble loudly as he fought not to grab Knock Out and force him to take more. “You're... you're playing a _very_ dangerous game pretty mech,” he growled, baring denta.

“Ah, but, if I recall it correctly...” The crimson racer grabbed Breakdown’s length, squeezing it once from tip to bottom. “... it was _you_ who wanted to play with _me_ in the first place. Do you remember? Just before shamelessly scratching my finish.” Knock Out feigned having forgotten about the spike in his servo as he adopted a casual conversational tone. “Which, by the way, you still have to buff. You promised.”

“Frag,” the vowel stretched out at the pinch. “Buff ya, wax ya, whatever ya like, just get your slagging servo movin’ on my spike!” The words came out more like pleading and less of an order than Breakdown would have liked.

“Can I have a massage too?” Knock Out asked cheekily.

With a growl Breakdown flipped them over and claimed the Con's mouth brutally. “Yeah, I'll massage ya... from the _inside_ ,” his denta played with Knock Out's lower lip components as large engines revved. “Gonna open up so I can give you what you asked for?”

“Since you ask so nicely...” Knock Out’s interface cover retracted with a soft, almost graceful click and snick, and he grinned playfully.

Gripping the agile mech's hips, Breakdown's spike played at the medic's opening, rubbing it without actually penetrating, 'So,' he purred, “Who do _you_ belong to?”

Knock Out squirmed, trying to get Breakdown’s spike into him, but unsuccessfully because the bigger mech was firmly grasping his hips. “Yours...” he sighed, hopeful that in submitting he’d get what he wanted, that he’d still win.

With a victorious roar, Breakdown sheathed himself in Knock Out's still stretched and soaking passage. “ _Mine_.”

“Aahh...!” Knock Out screamed, arching his back to feel the huge frame against his as completely as possible. “Fraggin’ _yours_!”

Breakdown caught him before he could return to the ground and pulled the racer close, starting a harsh pace, “Didn't hear ya little mech, _who_ do you belong to?”

Knock Out’s sharp digits latched onto Breakdown’s frame, leaving small gouges where he took hold as the thick spike did wonders in his valve, still over-sensitized from the recent stimulation. “Yours, Breakdown...! _Yours_!” he howled, finally capitulating and letting the bruiser have his victory too.

Lowering Knock Out carefully to the ground, Breakdown's arm wrapped around the medic's waist to press them together; his other servo still latched onto the smaller mech's hip. Pounding as hard as he thought the sports car could take; the spike’s ridges massaged the medic's sensor nodes thoroughly in reward for the crimson mech’s surrender. “All _mine_!”

Knock Out’s legs hooked around Breakdown’s hips and his helm fell back onto the floor, abandoning any resistance, yielding to the pleasure, the maddening spike stroking every cluster in his valve, the possessive growl that laced his lover’s voice, the strong arms supporting his weight... He could have died right then and he wouldn’t have minded.

Bending to suck at Knock Out's neck, latching onto it with his denta, Breakdown kept the medic still as he once more found the central sensor cluster right at the back of his lover's valve, spark feeling as though it were about to burst with pleasure.

“Primus... Breakdown!” the CMO moaned, his processors starting to blur from the excess input of pleasure. He wouldn’t last too much longer like this, and nor would he want to.

The Wrecker growled around Knock Out's soft metal, “Come on little mech,” he crooned, “Come on now.”

Knock Out couldn’t tell if it was the larger’s tacit order or the last deep thrusts which made him climax, the charge spreading through his circuits, going up like a torch doused with gasoline and setting him aflame. He remembered screaming Breakdown’s name distantly, but it was hard to focus on anything else beyond the pleasure they were sharing.

The pleasured scream of his name and the beautiful sight of Knock Out climaxing sent Breakdown spiralling, roaring, into his own overload, coating the medic's insides again with his transfluid. Leaving a mark and being marked in return. Purring and mewling like a sated cybercat after a good rut, he nuzzled at his lover's neck as he gradually came down, plating still blazing hot.

Bleary optics looked at Breakdown, still in the haze of overload. “Yours...” Knock Out repeated softly, the word sounding oddly right and soothing, welcomed.

“Mine,” the larger mech kissed him softly, glossa darting out to lick the energon off the medic's lip component's, “Yours.”

Knock Out nuzzled his face in the crook of Breakdown’s neck, taking comfort as his new lover took it from him. Then, he chuckled softly, tiredly. “It takes a termination attempt to find your perfect partner.”

“Sounds about right,” Breakdown chuckled. “So... you've fallen helm over pedes for me after all.” A smug flicker went through his field.

“Who said that? You don’t have proof,” the medic smirked.

Breakdown quirked an optic ridge and sent an internal order to the ship. Over the loudspeakers came Knock Out's scream of, _“Yours, Breakdown!... Yours!”_. “Oh really? No proof at all?” a grin split his faceplates.

“You... you dirty _ex_ -Wrecker!” Knock Out feigned being indignant, and used his strategic position to bite playfully at Breakdown’s neck.

“My pretty little mech,” he purred with a low rumble of satisfaction from his engines, “You did say I was a brute.”

“Never said that was a bad thing though.” Knock Out flashed a grin.

The bruiser nipped at the speedster's lower jaw, “You like brutes? Big mechs?"

“I like someone who can handle me,” the CMO replied, field sparkling playfully.

“Oh I think I can handle you gorgeous,” Breakdown’s energies shone mischief back, giving a single light thrust, spike remaining semi-hard.

“And with great stamina, I see.” Knock Out hummed his appreciation. “And you, what do you like?”

“I like someone who challenges me,” Breakdown beamed at the compliment.

“You still owe me a spar,” the crimson mech’s digit’s traced lazy circles over the larger’s chest-plates.

The Wrecker picked his once captive up off the floor and dropped into his pilot's seat, the smaller mech cradled on his chassis. “I saved your prod for you.”

“Lucky me, because they don’t build those weapons any longer.” He made himself comfortable in Breakdown’s hold. Primus, he didn’t want to use a chair ever again when he could have this warmth and comfort. The bruiser’s lap was truly the best place to sit, better than a throne. “So, how long until we reach Decepticon grounds?” he asked, snuggling against the cosy chassis. “Do I have time for a nap?”

“We got cycles yet,” Breakdown nuzzled the top of Knock Out's helm in return, “You want me to put you in the berth?”

“Nope,” the medic shook his helm and latched his digits into a seam. “You are not getting rid of me so easily, big boy.”

Breakdown smirked, “Good.” He began to lightly massage Knock Out's back and wheel, rubbing them warmly.

Knock Out offlined his optics, the gentle rubbing soothing him easily into recharge after the intense experiences of the day. He needed- no, he _deserved_ \- some time to relax.

Breakdown sighed contentedly, leaning back comfortably in his seat and staring out at open space, never stopping his caressing of Knock Out's frame.

“...Love you...” the small red medic mumbled, already asleep.

Breakdown blinked then beamed, dipping his helm to whisper into Knock Out's audio, “Love you too.”

It didn't matter that Knock Out didn't hear it, Breakdown was sure he'd say it many times in the future.

***

_Thanks for reading._


End file.
